Page 4 of Cursed Lifeline (Eternal Love)
Three
Esme
Song: Toxic | 2WEI
"He won't give you a choice," Alfred says as my eyes survey the lavish masquerade party in the ballroom. A party my father held portentously in my honor for my eighteenth birthday. "The money is gone. He's taken lines of credit. Advances. Loans he will never be able to pay back. We both know he sees Lord Laurent as his only savior."
"But Lord Laurent will never be my savior," I roll my eyes and grumble under my breath.
My gaze catches the Lord in question. I fail miserably at hiding my grimace as his beady gaze holds mine. He licks his old, wrinkled lips, and a smile pulls at the sides of the white, unkempt whiskers adorning his foul mouth. Squatty and plump, the ancient, hideous man of French nobility moves closer like a python, worming its hair-raising way towards its unsuspecting catch, eager to strangle and smother it. Bile rises in my throat as my eyes land on leathered, saggy skin, defined jowls, and a wattle under his chin covered in a revolting scattering of moles that remind me of the caruncles under a turkey's neck.
"There has to be another way," I frown. "Why can't Father marry you off? You're older than me. If he found you a nice Countess, a Lady in Waiting, maybe..."
My brother's contemptuous chuckle stops my rambling. "And disgrace the family further with the knowledge of his affair? It's too risky. Marriage might uncover the fact that commoner blood runs through my veins. Father would sell his soul to the devil before ever agreeing to that."
He's right, though the tempting thought of my brother's arranged nuptials is much more appealing than mine.
The old man approaching licks his lips hungrily as his thirsty gaze flutters across my mature form. Repulsed, I avert my stare just as a migraine pierces between my eyes and a tingling sensation flutters across my skin. Sensing I'm being watched, my eyes dance about the ballroom, searching for the mysterious stalker. When they come up empty, I shake the feeling off and release a heavy sigh. Raising my glass of champagne to my lips, I savor the bubbles when they tickle my nose, then prickle deliciously as they run down the back of my throat, and warm my nervous belly. With any luck, the drink will numb the headache brewing since Alfred found me earlier in the foyer.
"It was worth the thought," I mumble into the crystal flute.
"Might I suggest thinking about things that may actually work in your favor, petit ."
I release a heavy sigh. Another roll of my eyes. I hate it when my brother calls me petit - little one . Especially since there is not much of an age gap between us.
After a moment, Alfred stands a little taller as his eyes land on a pretty brunette across the dance floor. With a mischievous smile he adds, "Besides, why would I consider marriage when being the bastard son of Lord Martin has allotted me many favorable liberties over the years? For one, a hefty allowance for my silence. For two, an endless variety of women who are more than willing to help me spend it. Their cost is my pleasure gained."
"A hefty allowance that he hasn't afforded to pay you in the last year."
He shrugs, "I've found other ways to provide for my needs."
Women.
He's found other women to provide for his needs.
Older women whose husbands have died or whose loveless marriages have allowed him to meet their needs, and his, for a very enticing price paid in full whenever their late-night rendezvous bring them together.
Alfred's eyes lock on the brunettes across the room, and he lewdly growls, "Now, if you'll excuse me, petit ."
He struts off in the woman's direction, and I shake my head. To the naked eye or the passerby, most would think Alfred is conceited. A player. A womanizer. But there are so many more layers to him that most never get the chance to witness.
For starters, it's rumored his mother abused him after my father shunned her following their affair. For two, when he was dropped off on my father's doorstep, my father eventually agreed to pay for his silence but has repeatedly let him know over the years just how unworthy and useless he thinks his life is.
And that's only the beginning of the mystery which is Alfred Crawley. Once he opens up, you notice his persona is all a front. You see just how fragile he is, and you understand just how deep his past wounds have cut him.
As Alfred stalks off towards a better night than the one that awaits me, it pains me to admit it, but he's right. I need to focus. That includes concentrating on a lot more than the obvious impending disaster of an arranged marriage. It means attempting to wrap my brain around a future I sense is suddenly unfolding. One that my soul warns could ruin me before I'll ever get the chance to reach out and grasp what I want from it.
Lord Laurent's stalking eyes find mine as I down the rest of my champagne. A few feet in front of me, Alfred bows at the waist, tenderly picks up the brunette's tiny palm, and kisses it with the grace of a nobleman. Something he swears he's not. Though, truth be told, he's more dignified than most of the gentlemen I've had the displeasure of sharing company with.
A jealous tug pulls at my heart as the lady blushes and Alfred steps into her, and whispers a slew of sweet nothings into her ear. Another begrudging pull on my lonely soul steals my next breath. Another wave of sadness consumes me.
If my father has his way, I can only look forward to a quick marriage to an old geezer who will never satisfy the longing my mortal spirit craves. Inside me, a hopeful, burning desire lives and longs to be fulfilled by a man who effortlessly holds the other half of my soul tenderly in his intuitive palm. At night, I dare to dream I'll someday find the electric spark I hunger for in another, and it will offer an exhilarating strength that will prove powerful enough to tie us together, not just in life, but in death.
A love like that could never come at the hands of someone like Lord Laurent.
Laurent steps closer as Alfred discreetly slides his arm around the woman's waist. Flustered and nervous, she casts a worried look over her shoulder, most likely searching for her husband whom she arrived with earlier this evening. When she doesn't notice him, or anyone else who would run off and spill her secrets, she leans into Alfred and lets him guide her onto the dance floor.
He holds her the way every woman dreams of being held.
Tenderly. Possessively. His touch toes the line of respect and an insatiable lust to explore forbidden places on her body in ways she's never been touched before. His hold is sensual without being provocative. It's smooth. Intentional.
It makes me yearn to be held the same.
Alfred's charismatic appeal is definitely not something he inherited from our father, but instead must be a special bestowal from his mother.
Though I don't know much about Alfred's maternal birthright, I do know some of my own mother's before she passed.
Mother came from a long line of French clergy. Up until recently, the clergy in France had more land and money than anyone else. Land my father inherited upon marrying my mother, the esteemed Lady Dupont. Land he's lost, along with the money that was left to him from my mother's passing. Hence my promised hand in marriage to an older, extremely wealthy gentleman that could save not only the family estate but also the Martin name.
A man almost three times my age, whose youngest daughter is older than I am. A man that will undoubtedly ruin my idea of romance, love, and sex. Though, I'm sure, not in that order.
The thought of sex with the unsightly patriarch makes my stomach threaten to upturn as Alfred guides the brunette off the dance floor and into a darkened corner. My gaze once again lands on the peering eyes of Lord Laurent. I inhale a sharp, slightly nervous breath as he starts to move my way quicker than before. Stalking off, I try my best to keep hidden in the crowd as I search for more champagne.
Veering right when I come to the grand entryway of our estate, I notice my father down a dim hallway huddled in conversation with some landowners from the far east of our country. Some faces are ones I recognize from the nobility in Italy, Austria, Greece, and Romania. The way they whisper amongst themselves makes me pause and step back into the shadows. As I covertly study them, their conversation continues to escalate. One man shouts viciously, and another yells back violently, but from my distance, I can't make out what they're saying. My father looks tensely over his shoulder and ushers them all into the privacy of his nearby study. A shiver rushes up my spine as the doors eerily close on their hinges, quickly locking the men away from the party.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A sweeping sickness coats my flesh. My heart slows. My breathing stops. A headache threatens as a lonely black feather flutters cryptically to rest atop the curve of my right, heaving breast.
Plucking it up quickly, I study it suspiciously. Again, the overpowering knowledge that I'm being watched grows as my breathing quickens and my stalker's curiosity ghosts across my skin in an intoxicating way. Pulling me closer, drawing me in, a perplexing, tender touch dreamily runs its ghostly fingers through my thoughts as if my mind's being read by a gentle beast whose deviant plans are changing with every skillful caress.
Before I can stop the assault, or worse, give in to the magnetic pull, a loud chorus of yells and laughter breaks through the gripping sorcery and draws my attention across the entryway. Stepping towards it, I attempt to shake off the feelings still riveting me from a moment ago as my heels clip quickly across the marble floor.
I follow the crowd's deafening sound into the parlor as the black raven feather slips through my fingertips. My eyes take in a welcoming distraction as several men sit around a large round table playing cards. Their women stand excitedly behind them, cheering them on, drinking, gossiping, and whispering cheating secrets into their ears when they catch a glimpse of their opponent's cards. Leaning against the doorframe, I smile and try to forget the night's burdens.
Alfred taught me how to play cards to hone my skill of reading others' minds. A game may be what I need to take my thoughts off Lord Laurent and whatever or whoever is hunting me tonight.
"Do you plan to watch, or do you enjoy playing the game, too, mon cheri?" a gentleman says as he steps up behind me.
His voice is like sinful velvet floating hypnotically into my soul. The way he endears me to him, calls me mon cheri, my dear , is edged with a carnal lust I've never heard fall from a man's lips before. His voice entices me, draws me closer, and has me hanging on a salacious edge, desperate to hear another word fall from his forbidden, tempting, addictive lips.
When I don't answer, he growls, "Or, perhaps you prefer a challenge."
I don't dare turn around, and instead suck in a shaky breath as he steps closer and his chest brushes temptingly against my spine. My breathing stills. My heart stops. I glance down as his black leather gloved fingertips brush up my arm, and I shiver from promiscuous thoughts.
His lips press seductively against my ear as he erotically whispers, "I've yet to meet a challenge I haven't conquered. However, if I'm not careful, I must confess our encounter promises to bring me to my knees."
Stunned by his audacity, I turn around slowly, and violet eyes lock on mine. Paralyzed, I study them momentarily and feel at peace for the first time. Suspended in a life-changing, entrancing moment, my gaze softly falls to his red, full lips and eagerly roams across his ghostly white, blemish-free skin, accentuated by high cheekbones and a strong jaw, perfectly dusted with short, dark, coffee-brown facial hair.
My heart flutters as I step back and study his tall frame and broad, strong, lean body.
All of the men dressed here tonight are adorned with embroidered jackets and suits of light blue, green, or gold. But this man is wearing all black. He's clothed in rebellion. Something not common in upper society. Just like the five o'clock shadow sexily swept across the lower half of his face. Most believe the clothes and facial hair portray an eccentric, unreasoned, ungoverned man. I find it adds an air of mystery and intrigue, though I can't deny, from the looks of him, he may fit the wild stereotype to perfection.
If I were a smarter woman, I would pay attention to the fact that everything about him says the cliche is right. He's ungoverned. Unconstrained. Answers to no laws, except his own.
But I'm not a smarter woman.
As if he can read my mind, his violet eyes widen mischievously. He smiles wickedly, showing me just how sinful and corrupt he undoubtedly is as sharp canines peek devilishly into sight.
I start to take another step back, but his right arm wraps around my waist possessively. His fingers twine through my corset's lace and anchor me to him. His left palm tightly, possessively grips my hip through my silk dress. His burning touch brands me. The heat of it singes my skin through the thick, protective layer of my petticoat. Unable to think straight, I become numb to all reason as he pulls me a step closer.
Bracing myself against his chest, I attempt to yank back, but his violet eyes continue to hold me immobile under his alluring spell.
His stare drifts provocatively to my mouth. I hold my breath as he licks his lips and whispers, "How do you do it?"
When I don't answer, his striking face falls to the crook of my neck. He desperately breathes me in, and I let out a strangled gasp.
"Do what?"
"Make me crave you without even a taste," he growls.
His mouth eagerly places a kiss on my neck, and I tremble. He groans and slowly, improperly licks my jugular vein that's beating wildly against his hungry lips. Arching into him, my knees wobble as he continues to toe an improper line out in the open where anyone can see.
"Felix," a man's voice abruptly breaks through the spell we're under.
Felix.
I smile, commit his name to memory, and will my breathing to return to normal as I attempt to step out of his hold. But Felix doesn't release me. In fact, he tightens his grip, fists his fingers through the golden locks at the nape of my neck, and delicately yanks my head to the side, exposing more of my trembling flesh to his immoral desires.
"You're wanted at the table," his friend insists as he steps up to our side.
I catch the man's eyes over Felix's shoulders. Alarm surges through me when I see them glow the same violet shade as the man who's now lightly releasing his grip on my waist. The dealer at the table says a gentleman's last name. Caldwell . I assume they're talking about the man who is reluctant to release me from his hold. The dealer says it again a second time, then a third. His anger continues to grow with every utterance.
"They won't hold your spot forever," Felix's friend grits out.
Placing a strong grip on his shoulder, he attempts to pull Felix back from me. A predatory, possessive growl escapes Felix's lips. It's a rumble that tingles its way down my spine and makes desire simmer in my lower stomach. The dominance in the action, his power and control, makes my heart race erratically. After a moment, his friend releases his hold and steps back.
Felix keeps his grip anchored on my waist. As his gaze locks on mine, he grins with devilry intent, "Play with me."
I blush, then teasingly toss back, "Monsieur Caldwell, please."
I force myself a step back out of his arms, and this time, he strangely lets me go. But his eyes linger on mine, hungrily searching and roaming every inch of my shaking soul. His hypnotic gaze makes my knees once again begin to shake. Before they give out completely, I turn around, saunter into the next room, and sass, "Lucky for you, I too, like a challenge. Especially if it ends in bringing the right man to his knees."
His sultry chuckle falls against my shivering spine as I approach the group seated around the green felt in the center of the room. Felix stalks quietly behind me. The heat of his gaze sears with need across my quivering skin as I pull my chair back from the table and, with a racing heart, take my seat.
The dealer starts to shuffle, and I focus on the rippling clatter of the cards being melded together instead of the frantic breaths lodging themselves in my chest. I place my jittery hands on top of the dense, coarse fabric, but my palms begin to shake as Felix Caldwell slowly starts to walk behind my chair. Embarrassed he might see my trembling hands, I attempt to hide them, and quickly place them in my lap.
As he passes, Felix brushes his fingertips across the back of my right shoulder. Stopping at my spine, he slowly trails his fingers across the back of my left shoulder and sits beside me. The dealer calls my name and angrily says something I can tell I'm supposed to pay attention to, but I can't hear it over the hammering of my heart in my ears.
Before I can decipher what has been said, Felix reaches into my lap and protectively laces his fingers through mine. My heart stops as I look his way and he brings my hands to his lips. He turns my palms in his, and places a kiss against the inside of my right wrist.
"Mon cheri," he whispers as he breathes in the scent of my skin.
He kisses the inside of my left wrist next, and I let out a wanton breath. The room fades away, and I swear I'm dreaming as his eyes lift, lock on mine, and his teeth nibble softly against my delicate skin.
He holds me captive as he grins, "To truly play the game, you can't let it be over before it ever gets a chance to start."
My hands shake. The dealer's next words break through the fog in my mind and release me from the spell Felix has me cast under.
"Hands where we can see them, Esme," he demands as he starts to deal, "Or I'll be forced to tell your father and brother where you're spending your time."
My stare quickly breaks from Felix's and finds the eyes of Alfred's friend, Caelum, who agreed to help with tonight's festivities.
"And," he adds with warning, "with whom you're spending your time with."
He raises his brow and gives Felix a challenging look. The man beside me grins viciously at Caelum before dropping my hands, picking up his cards, and then flinging his right arm possessively over the back of my chair as if I am his Lady, he is my Lord, and we'll be sharing a carriage home to our private quarters later tonight where he plans to ravage me to his heart's content. The gesture should unnerve me. It should make me realize my virtue may be at stake. Instead, it gives birth to a hopeful spark that's insatiable and fueled to a dangerous high as Felix's fingertips rise and brush fondly against the back of my neck.
Shakily, I pick up my cards and lean away before the spark gives birth to a fire that my heart warns will inevitably engulf us in an inescapable, unethical flame. But as if on some fated breeze, my chair suddenly scrapes across the marble floor until it is butted up against the side of Felix's. His thigh presses possessively against mine as his fingertips continue to twirl lovingly at the nape of my neck.
The open, dominant display shocks me. I glance up quickly and catch the eye of Felix's friend from earlier, who is now standing a few steps back from the table on the opposite side of the room. He shakes his head at his friend and snarls, "She won't be pleased you're so freely enjoying yourself, Felix."
"She's never pleased," Felix sighs in annoyance, before grumbling under his breath, "Let's face it, most women aren't."
I try to avoid their conversation, but Felix leans into me as I am organizing my cards and whispers, "Are you pleased, mon cheri?"
My mind stumbles over what suit goes with what as I try to decide if his question deserves a response.
Emitting a low, desperate growl when I don't answer, he demands, "Tell me, Esme, are you satisfied?"
The heat of his exhale tickles just under my ear. My breathing becomes erratic. My breasts strain against the confines of my corset as my heart hammers and blood deliriously rushes through my veins.
"Mmmm," Felix growls as the heat of his gaze falls on my chest, and he hungrily licks his lips. "You know what? Don't answer because your apparent discontent is my new obsession, mon cheri. Controlling your rapacious pleasure is now my only pursuit in life. In death. In your dishonorable dreams as you lay awake at night and helplessly, indecently, hunger with unvirtuous desire for the pleasure we both know only I can give you."
Stunned at how forward he is, my mouth falls open in shock. But before I can respond, the players start to ante. Chips hit the center of the table, matching the unnerved beating of my unsettled heart. When I continue to sit silent, Felix tenderly grips my chin and turns my gaze to meet his.
As he holds my stare, his ravenous gaze searches mine.and his breath promisingly whispers against my lips, "First look, first touch, first sound of your voice, first smell of your delectable skin, and I knew I'd never be able to look away from you ever again." An immodest gasp escapes my mouth as his thumb brushes across my bottom lip. "You felt it, too. Don't fucking deny it."
My cheeks blush. Blood rushes violently through my veins. He groans with thirsty need, and I let out a light whimper as his starved gaze stays locked on mine.
"Call," Caelum, demands.
Startled, I glance back at the table and see the hand has been played. All the chips are stacked in the center of the table. I don't know how much time has passed, but the hand is almost over. Confused, I notice my ante has been made, but all my other chips remain staked nice and neat next to my right. The other players around the table, all eight or nine of them, have gone all in. Bewildered, I glance to my left and realize even Felix has bet everything he has.
I debate folding until Felix says, "I, too, prefer a challenge. Though none have rattled me more than you since I lost my damned soul over a century ago."
He leans back in his chair and tosses me a devilish wink. Flipping over my cards, the groans of the other player's losses ring through the room as Felix pushes back his chair and stands. I miss his warmth the second it leaves my side.
"She cheated."
"She's counting cards."
"No one is that lucky."
"It's because she's Lord Martin's daughter."
Aghast, I look around the table and am about to stand up for myself until Felix places a hand on my shoulder, anchors me to my seat, and warns me to stay silent. Slightly annoyed, I begrudgingly look up at him. But all fight flees my soul as his threatening, sinister eyes stay locked straight ahead and burn into the men and women across from me. Silently, his threatening stare cautions them to keep quiet and leave. Immediately, the men stand and start to clear out of the room. They're angry, but they don't dare say another word. Their companions' tearful eyes fall on me as they're ushered back to the party.
"Was that all our money?" one of the women whispers between sobs to her husband.
"Your winnings," Caelum grins as he pushes the stacks from the center of the table my way. "Alfred will be pleased to learn of your take from tonight's nobility, miss."
Felix's hand leaves my shoulder, and I shiver from the loss of his touch. He promptly places it on the back of my chair and leans down until his teeth graze my ear. "That's close to three million dollars, mon cheri," his smooth, intoxicating voice causes butterflies to swarm into a chaotic flight in my belly. With that kind of money, you'll be forced to marry Lord Laurent over my dead body."
What? How did he know?
My startled gaze lifts to his. His jaw sets with vicious intent. The heated way his violet eyes bore into mine unnerves me, but as he raises his hand and his tender touch brushes across my bottom lip, I melt into his power and freely offer up my submission.
"Esmerelda," my name falls like sweet honey from his lips as he growls, "It's immoral how much I crave you."
He studies my mouth for a moment, and I stop breathing. The indecent desires he promised I'd dream about later tonight swarm to the forefront of my mind. Before I can act on any of them, anger fills his gaze.
His eyes darken. His hand falls bitterly away. "For your sake and mine, it's best you stay away from me, Esme. Far. Away."
"What happened to mon cheri?" I bite back bitterly, instantly feeling the harsh sting of his rejection.
His evil grin holds an air of disdain. Not for me, though, I quickly note. For someone else. Himself maybe?
Leaning in, he whispers, "It's because I hold you dear, precious, treasured, that I tell you these things, Esmerelda. That I warn you." His words, though sweet and tender, give me pause. "If I didn't care, you'd be married off to that fat, decrepit man faster than either of us could stop it." He backs away and puts some distance between us. Cocking his head to the side, his violet eyes shine as if he's just had a tempting thought. "Perhaps marrying someone like that would be your saving grace after all."
Before I respond, he rounds my chair and stalks off toward his friend.
"You're wanted in the study," he tells Felix as he eyes me like a threat.
Felix chuckles indignantly as his friend turns and they leave the room. "Is that what she's required of you, Dimitri? To tell me where I am wanted next or what I am and am not supposed to do?"
Their voices fade as my eyes fall back on the chips on the table in front of me. I study them for a moment, baffled by tonight's turn of events. After a while, I realize Caelum is still sitting at the table. In fact, we're the only ones left in the room. Also, he just witnessed everything and no doubt will be filling Alfred in later. Being my half-brother doesn't mean Alfred loves me any less than if we were full blood. In fact, it almost makes him look after me more closely. That is when he's not distracted by tempting brunettes at parties after drinking one too many glasses of champagne.
I attempt to ignore Caelum and start to pull the chips towards me.
"He's right, you know," Caelum sighs as he rises from his seat and walks toward the exit.
"About what?"
"His warning." My gaze lifts and Caelum's icy stare sends shivers down my spine as it locks harshly on mine. "You're better off following the fate your father wishes than getting closer to them."
Them? He says it like some sort of threat.
"Air on the side of caution, Esme," Caelum warns as he walks out of the room, "Or your father stands to lose more than his estate. If you don't, we all stand to lose our lives."